The intervening years since Left Field's publication have been ones of personal and political hope and of personal and political despair. In other words, nothing out of the ordinary.
Not surprisingly for someone entering my eighth decade, these have been years when close friends have left this planet while I remain clinging to its edges, aware of Leonard Cohen’s words to Marianne Ihlen that, “I am so close behind you that if you stretch out your hand, I think you can reach mine.”
My operation for a subdural haematoma which I wrote about in Left Field was followed two years later by a heart valve operation, then a stroke caused by a strepsis infection of my new valve. More recently I have had epileptic seizures and now write without a glass of wine or beer as my prompt! I used my hospital stays to campaign for an NHS that has now saved my life three times.
I'm proud that the unfairly much-vilified Jeremy Corbyn visited me when I was in St Barts Hospital. The worst insult he has had to endure has been accusations of ‘anti-semitism’ when he has been at the forefront of anti-racism struggles for decades. I last saw him three years ago when I joined him in Cable Street at a demonstration to mark the 85th anniversary of the battle to stop fascism in this country.
With that in mind, I helped organise a letter in his support signed by Ken Loach, Brian Eno, Nigel Kennedy, Alexei Sayle and thousands of others, I consider Corbyn to be our El Pepe.
His visit to my bedside was organised by Alice Kilroy whose death has left my grip on the planet more enfeebled. She was a wonderful friend and visited me in hospital more times than anyone outside my immediate family. I miss her. Here she is with the banner she made for my 70th birthday. It says: "70 years young/ The cops have not caught me yet/ No point braking now"
Before she died in February 2020, Alice asked me to take over her work as one of the contributors to People's Campaign for Corbyn Facebook. You can view all these blogs on my website at www.davidwilson.org.uk
Thanks to Jan Woolf I have got to know Ken Livingstone, the other politician accused of anti-semitism because of his defence of Palestine. On 20th April 2024 Jan organised a 'Thanks Ken Livingstone' celebration. Family and friends gathered to honour his life and legacy as Mayor of London. We were treated to poetry, a piano recital from his granddaughter, Sky Hutchinson, and contributions acknowledging his many achievements as a good and effective politician. On sale was a pamphlet which included my conversation with him over a takeaway curry.
As I write this postscript genocide continues to flatten Palestine, confirming the continuing importance of all that Jeremy and Ken have said and done. Aided and abetted by our political leaders and the 'corporate media' it seems that all we are left with is Antonio Gramsci's - 'pessimism of the heart, optimism of the will.' Jeremy and Ken, along with many of my friends, help me with that optimism.
I have also found that optimism at the heart of the genocidal suffering. Thanks to contact with the Edward Said National Conservatory of Music in Birzet, Palestine, I have been able to write about the survival of music in Gaza. And Haidar Eid, professor of literature at Gaza's Al-Aqsar University has kept me, and the wider world, informed about the situation there, but also about his own experience of loss and survival.
I have also found that optimism at the heart of the genocidal suffering. Thanks to contact with the Edward Said National Conservatory of Music in Birzet, Palestine, I have been able to write about the survival of music in Gaza. And Haidar Eid, professor of literature at Gaza's Al-Aqsar University has kept me, and the wider world, informed about the situation there, but also about his own experience of loss and survival.
My optimism is strengthened by my Jewish friends, most of whom are more regular participants at the Palestine demonstrations than I am. This should not surprise you as I have written about the strength of the Bundist tradition in judaism many times.
Plenty to keep me busy and angry, but I am also finding time to write new books. My World Café was published by Riversmeet in November 2023. It is a collaboration with the wonderfully gifted artist, Laura Davis. I am now writing My World Music which will be published by Riversmeet in 2026.
These
years have been ones when my eldest son, Ben, lost and won back his
disability benefits. Many haven’t and many have lost their lives in the process. I have written about him in Left Field, and he remains a constant force for good in my life. When I am depressed I reflect on his life and how he continues to overcome his hardships with positive determination and humour.
But these have also been years of loss for me, not just of the dead, but of a living son who has ghosted me. I wrote about Jonny under a pseudonym for Stand Alone, a charity set up for people estranged from their families. I have a grandson, Rhys. who is aged ten at time of writing, but who has never met me. Left Field is dedicated to him so I hope he will one day find his way to a copy. I have written him a letter which has been attached to my Will and which I also hope he will read, even if it is after my death.
My past as co-founder of War Child still haunts me and hope it haunts those I write critically about here. I recently learned that the present War Child CEO receives an annual salary of £118,000. My critique of aid charities continued after two visits to the Calais ‘jungle’ refugee ‘camps’.
More happily I visit Mostar to stay with my Bosnian family who I write about in Left Field.
Here is my Mostar son, Oha Maslo, with his wife, Masa. They have taught me that 'family' is not just biological. Today Oha is Director of the Mostar Rock School, succesfully bringing together young people with music. I am lucky to have them in my life along with their daughters Luna, Zoe and Lejla, Teo and his family, woodcraft maestro, Esad Brkiċ, Nedžad Klepo, Elvis Ibragic, Nada Hendrix and many others.
Here in London I have been trying to play guitar again. My left hand was weakened by the stroke. My London music friends are at Camden Guitars and the owner, Deicola Neves, tells me off when I complain. "Didn't you know that Django Reinhardt only had three fingers?
Deicola and his shop have become my London Pavarotti Centre. Here he is playing great jazz on bass guitar. He performed at my 80th birthday celebration, as he did twelve years ago at my father's funeral.
And here is the Dubioza Kolektiv 'Cross the Line' track made with Manu Chao about borders that kill. They too visited me in hospital soon after Jeremy's visit. Listen to this great track and watch the video which is as politically powerful as their music. I dedicate this entry to them, to Oha and family, to Deicola and all those who have kept me connected to music and a life without borders., both physical and mental.
Finally I am honoured that the following messages were sent me to mark my 80th year.
BEN WILSON: ‘Hey David and all of you that have turned up to celebrate this milestone birthday. I’m sorry I can’t be there in person. So bloody hell David you’ve done it! 80! I say this because, as you all know my dad had a lot of health issues, but has luckily got though them, Raise your glasses as I will tonight, but sadly David can’t, except with a soft drink’
OHA MASLO: ‘Dear father, Well, you are turning 80 now. I do not have any doubt that, at the moment, you are surrounded by people who are important to you and who love you. I'm not sure how you're going to get through such a beautiful day without having a drink, good luck with that, hahaha. You were 52 when we met, which means I have to run through 5 more years to reach that age :) And I have known you for 28 years now :) We, Maša, Zoe, Luna, Lejla, and I, your southern family, are very happy for all these years that we are sharing together with you. Knowing your father's case, there are going to be at least 20 more :) We will have a time to celebrate this round number with you in Mostar in about a month's time. I would like to ask everyone in the room now to help us from down south to deliver our celebrating energy to David. - Take the glass, make sure there is drink in there :) - Look at David's eyes - And repeat after me - Živio sto godina - U zdravlje - Have a drink, and enjoy the party :) Thank you everyone. Love from Mostar. Happy birthday Father xxx’
IRIAL & DARLA ENO: ‘Wishing you a very happy birthday. You have always been, and cntinue to be, such an inspiration to us both. Thank you for always speaking truth to power, and never giving up the fight for what is right. With love, admiration. Solidarity, and hopes for a brighter future’ Irial & Darla xxx
HENRIETTA SEEBOHM: ‘Happy Birthday! You are an inspiration, a legend and a community builder. Thank you for your welcome to the Pavarotti Centre in Mostar in the 90’s. Congratulations on your 80th birthday – you rock!’ Henri
HAIFA ZANGANA: ‘My dearest friend. On your birthday let's celebrate friendship and solidarity. I and Mundher, will be with you though we are both in Tunis, and I will borrow a few lines from our friend Saadi Yousif, the iraqi poet who calls himself ‘The last communist’. To you " You are free. You pick a sky and name it, a sky to live in, a sky to refuse. A sky as vast as your heart. Your friendship’
CECILY BOMBERG: ‘In all the many years I’ve known David, he has not just spoken or written about his anger and despair for the world’s injustices, but has put his all actively and daily into attempting to defeat them, never counting the cost or seeking fame or reward, and I love and bless him for it. Happy birthday David, may you live another 80 years. This old world needs you’
HIDETO AND CHAKO WATANABE: ‘Very happy 80th birthday, David! We wish we were there to celebrate this with you all. The time we were together doing Future Trust and Eclipse were one of the most exciting times of our life and remembered fondly always. Big thanks for the friendship!!!!’ Hideto and Chako.
And at the end of the 80th year celebration this poem was read by the person who is the reason why I am still here, Anne Aylor. She is my wife, lover, editor and muse. Without her I would never have written a word.
WILD GEESE by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
Read all of Left Field here.
